


when you're alone in the dark

by raekentheory



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1, Angst, Angst and Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Family Feels, Multi, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-28 21:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13912755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raekentheory/pseuds/raekentheory
Summary: Five times Liam has a nightmare and crawls into bed with someone, and the one time it happens in reverse.





	when you're alone in the dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tabbytabbytabby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tabbytabbytabby/gifts), [Ithinkwehaveanemergency](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ithinkwehaveanemergency/gifts).



> For Tabby and Adri, who both put up with me on a daily basis, for reasons unknown to me. And for blessing me with a character like Jenna, as well as about eighty thousand prompts that are going to be dedicated to them because it's their fault I'm so far down this rabbit whole. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Title from _Nightmares_ , by All Time Low. Listen if you want to feel extra feelsy about this fic. That's it, that's your warning label. Have fun kids.

**0.**

Liam wakes up crying for three weeks after his dad walks out. From her bedroom down the hall, his mother Jenna can hear every soft whimper and sob. She drags herself out of bed, wraps her housecoat tight, and pads over to his room. The hardwood is cold beneath her bare feet.

She supposed it’s fitting, considering how cold the whole house feels. How devoid of light and life. It’s been hard on them both, but moreso on Liam, who is barely four years old. Who hasn’t lost just a father, but a best friend too. A sister.

Quietly, she steps into his room. This is routine by now. He pretends to be asleep, because he feels guilty about waking her, and she slips into his tiny bed regardless, curling herself around him.

She stays with him until he falls asleep, whispering in his ear and rubbing comforting circles on his chest. “Everything will be alright, baby,” she promises him. In the dark of his room, she can only hope that it’s not a lie. “We’re going to be okay.”

When Jenna goes back to her room later, she has a hard time getting back to sleep. She hasn’t slept well at all since they left, if she’s honest. So instead, she lies awake and stares at the ceiling and prays for the strength to keep going. She can’t let Liam down. She just can’t.

 

**1.**

When they hit the four week mark, Liam finally comes to her.

She doesn’t hear him at all, which means he must’ve woken up quieter than usual. He has to tap gently at her elbow to get her to stir, and she nearly jumps out of her skin at the sight of him hovering at the edge of her bed, a small bundle of shadows and droopy shoulders.

“Hi, baby,” she whispers, reaching up to wipe at his damp cheeks. She can just barely make out the pout on his lips in the darkness. “You have a bad dream?”

Liam nods.

She scoots over, leaving him plenty of space on the bed, and he crawls up. She lifts the covers, and he tucks himself underneath, wiggling into her side. He buries his face in her neck, and lets loose a small, wet sob. He’s shaking.

“Shhh,” Jenna hums, wrapping her arms around him. “It’s okay, Liam. The nightmares are gone, Mommy’s right here.”

“But they’re not,” he chokes out, and his fingers tangle in her hair. Jenna rubs his back, her other hand coming to rest on the crown of his head. Her chest is filled with shards of glass that sting and prick at her insides, in place of her heart.

It hurts her that he’s hurting. That he’s sad and upset. It feeds the nasty, vicious voice in the back of her head that tells her maybe she’s not enough. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. There are tears pooling in her eyes, and she blinks them back.

Liam’s quiet for so long afterwards that she thinks maybe he’s fallen asleep. He’s so warm that she can feel the pull of sleep, returning to claim her far easier than before.

“They keep asking,” he whispers, so quiet and fragile, his very words sound breakable. “Her friends.”

Jenna inhales sharply, and her throat burns. She’d told the preschool what had happened, of course. Had informed them only one child would be attending from here on out. But the other kids… well, they were young. There was only so much you could do when they were growing, curious little things.

She breathes out, fluttering the blonde curls on his head. “I know this is hard, Liam,” Jenna tells him, pulling him tighter to her. As if a single embrace can protect him from every anguish the world has sought to throw at him. “But we’ll get through it together, okay? You and me.”

“Promise?” The word ghosts over the skin of her neck, and she nearly shivers. “You won’t leave?”

“I promise,” she says. “You’re stuck with me, kiddo.”

 

**2.**

They have a few bad days after that. Many more good days, of course, but still the odd terrible day.

None more so than March 4th, 2001.

The single, worst day of Jenna’s life. The day Liam goes missing for two hours.

They’d been at the park, with Mason and his mother, Camille. The latter had been running through her latest election campaign tactic, and Liam had been pushing his best friend on the swings. At least, he had been when Jenna had looked away.

For a single, awful second.

She’d made eye contact with Camille, startled by the  other woman’s offer to come work at her office, help her run her mayoral campaign. She’d thought that Jenna’s experience as a social worker would bring a unique perspective to things.

When she’d shifted her attention back to her son, he hadn’t been there. Mason has been slowing down, sitting in the swing alone, blinking in confusion, calling Liam’s name. He’d been staring straight at the treeline at the edge of the park.

In twenty minutes, Camille had wrangled more than half the block into their search party while Jenna clung tightly to Mason’s little hand, both calling out for their favourite person. Mason had tears streaming down his face, and kept blubbering about a cat that Liam had spotted and then taken off after.

Her heart had spent the whole two hours lodged in her throat, hoarse and raw from screaming and calling for her son. When they’d finally found him, it had been by chance. A man who lived a few blocks down had been taking the trash out before heading into the hospital for his shift, and he’d glimpsed Liam in his neighbor’s backyard, fiddling with the cat latch on their back door.

Jenna’s never felt more grateful to someone in her life as the stranger—David, a new resident at Beacon Memorial—had handed her back Liam, who’d burst into tears the moment he’s seen her. She’d thanked him with just as many tears, and she and Liam had spent the rest of the afternoon on the couch, eating ice cream and watching Disney movies.

Now, though. Now, hours later, Jenna’s lying in bed, staring at her ceiling, unable to fall asleep. Her heart’s still beating in her chest, echoing a panicked beat in her ears. Even though she knows he’s fast asleep in his room down the hall, she can’t help but think up a dozen different reasons why he might not be.

It terrifies her.

So badly that she never notices him pad into her bedroom until he’s next to her, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “Mommy?”

Jenna sits up abruptly, ruffling her pillows. “Yes, baby?”

He chews his bottom lip, shuffling from foot to foot, a telltale sign he’s shy or embarrassed. She shuffles to the edge of the bed, lifting her hand up to his cheek. It’s damp, and something twists in her gut. “Did you have a bad dream?”

He nods.

“Couldn’t find you,” he whispers, and he sounds so sad, so heartbroken that Jenna breaks right along with him. “I was all alone.”

“Come here,” she coos, sliding back and lifting the covers for him. He crawls in, burying his face into her pillow. When she lays the blanket over his shoulders, he sighs. He opens his eyes, gaze wide and blue as he stares at her, even in the dark. “I’m not going anywhere, Liam.”

“I know,” he mumbles, shifting his hands and sticking one under his pillow. The other finds hers, gently. “I scared you today. I’m sorry.”

Her free hand reaches up, brushing the bangs from his face and flicking his chin. “It’s okay. We found each other, in the end. Just like we always will.” Jenna swallows against the lump in her throat. It’s still a little raw. “No matter what, yeah?”

“No matter what,” Liam repeats, nodding into the pillow. Then his face scrunches up, puzzled. He sticks out his bottom lip just a fraction. “Can I…stay?”

Jenna softens, warmth blooming in her chest. “Of course, sweetheart.”

They fall asleep with their foreheads pressed together, in their little cocoon of heat.

 

**3.**

Liam grows out of this habit, eventually. Whether or not he has less nightmares over the years, Jenna doesn’t know, but he certainly crawls in with her less and less until it’s practically never.

Which is probably a good thing, she supposes. Especially once David moves in with them.

Once she opens her heart and allows someone else in, after all the years of it being cold and shut tightly enough that the gates are frozen. Once she falls in love again, with someone other than the bright, bubbly light in her life that is her son. Once she remarries; in a small, intimate celebration she never even dreamed of doing again someday.

Once Jenna and Liam make room for one more person in their lives, who strangely fits _just right_. Like the perfect chair, or the most comfortable bed, or a bowl of porridge. A puzzle piece they hadn’t realized they were missing.

And he’s absolutely wonderful with Liam. Kind and caring and patient. David’s never once shied away from his temper tantrums or emotional outbursts, and he’s helped with every struggle or hurdle. He taught Liam to play lacrosse to channel his anger, and worked hard on his grades to get him into the same private school David himself had attended. He’s more than Jenna could’ve ever hoped for, if she’d ever allowed herself a moment to dream in all those years they’d been on their own.

It’s why she’s not even remotely surprised when he takes Liam’s IED diagnosis in stride and accepts it without complaint or question. It’s simply another facet of Liam to learn, to understand, to adapt to and help with. The mere thought brings tears to Jenna’s eyes every time she thinks of how blessed they’ve been.

Which is sort of how she finds herself awake and staring at the ceiling when Liam pads into her room in the middle of the night for the first time in years.

He’s rubbing at his face with his sleeve, and she can hear sniffles from the foot of their bed. Slowly, Jenna sits up, peering at him in the darkness.

“Liam, honey?” She says quietly. She doesn’t know if she wants to wake David yet. “What is it?”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. His voice wobbles.

Her shoulders sag, and she lets out a soft breath that hangs heavily around her heart.

He’d been expelled from Devenford Prep today.

She hadn’t been able to pick him up, because she’d been in the middle of a case assessment when the school had called. David had gone in her stead, seeing as it was thankfully his day off. And by the time she got home to find Liam sitting on the couch quietly, staring at his broken lacrosse stick on the coffee table, he’d had most of the story to give her.

Liam had been benched for the rest of the season due to too many red cards, brought on by his anger issues. And he _hadn’t_ taken it well. The guidance counselor said he’d retaliated by destroying his Coach’s car. But Jenna had taken one look at her son, sitting there with this horrible, dejected look on his face, and she’d known it wasn’t that simple.

She knows that sometimes, he can’t help it.

And he tries. _God_ , does he try.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Jenna says, voice cracking. “It’s not your fault.”

“I still did it.” He huffs. “And I got expelled. After he worked so hard to—”

His mouth snaps shut with an audible _clack_ , and Liam stares down at his feet. The blankets to her left shuffle, and then there’s a voice, low and gravelly with sleep.

“Your mom’s right, kiddo,” David says, and Jenna looks at him with a fond smile as he rubs his eyes. He blinks a few times, then scoots over, leaving space between them. He pats at the mattress. “But we can talk about it, if you want.”

“Not really,” Liam says, shrugging. He scratches at the back of his neck, and tilts his head slightly, considering the spot on the bed. A moment later, he seems to make a decision as he lowers himself to the mattress, padding across it. He wiggles a little, snaking under the covers and into their pocket of warmth. He lets out a huge sigh, arms folded above the blanket.

Jenna and David exchange a look over his head.

It’s several long minutes before he speaks. Long enough that it startles them both, because they’d thought maybe he’d fallen asleep.

“They threw cupcakes at me,” Liam mutters. “In my dream.”

Jenna frowns, but David lets out a noise that’s fairly offended. “They what?”

“New lacrosse balls,” her husband whispers, and even in the dark of their room she can see him frowning, face etched with quiet anger. “Who did, Liam?”

“The rest of the team,” he responds, glaring at the ceiling. “I’m their second-best player. Actually, I’m their _only_ good player, other than Brett. They’ll lose the season without me, I think.” His voice drops to a frustrated hiss. “Clearly _they_ think so too, because they were pissed I got benched.”

“So they _threw_ things at you?” Jenna asks. His eyes whip up to meet hers, looking a little startled at the venom in her voice. Because she’s not quite sure they’re talking about _just_ his dream here. Something feels far too forlorn about his tone of voice for it to have happened all in his head. And to think, the school had expelled _him_ for breaking the Coach’s car… She has to wonder what they’d do when she destroyed their _offices_ for letting something like that happen. “That’s unacceptable.”

“I know,” Liam sighs, but he doesn’t sound mad. He sounds as upset as he has all night. “Don’t be mad, okay?”

“What?” She huffs. “Why wouldn’t I? Liam, that’s _bullying_.”

“I know,” he says again. “But I don’t—I mean, it was a nightmare, I don’t really know how much is…” He trails off, shaking his head. “Sorry. The meds, they kind of make my head fuzzy at night.”

Jenna lets out a soft little gasp, and her fingers reach up to card through his hair. “How about we talk things over in the morning, okay?”

He leans into her touch, humming. “Yeah,” he nods. “Yeah, okay.”

Liam slides forward, looking like he’s about to get up when David speaks.

“Hey,” he nudges Liam with his shoulder, and there’s a flash of teeth as he smiles. “Wanna crash here tonight? We haven’t had a slumber party in years.”

Liam snickers. “That’s because I’m not _eight_ anymore, Dad.”

David laughs deeply, and Jenna’s heart fills with warmth at the sight of them. Liam’s eyes flicker to hers, softening. “Can I, though?”

Her face splits into a pleasant grin, and she ruffles the hair her fingers had still been tangled in. “Of course, sweetheart.” She bends down to press a sloppy kiss to his forehead, then wiggles herself into the space beside him, covers coming up to her chin. He makes an offended noise of disgust.

“Aw, Mom!” Liam whines. He leans away from her as she wraps her arms around him, pulling him close the way she did as a baby. He doesn’t struggle very hard, and then David’s settling in on his other side, chuckling gently, effectively caging him in. “Gross.”

“You’re such a rude child,” Jenna shakes her head. “God help whoever has to put up with you one day. I hope they put you in their place.”

“Nah,” he snorts. “They’ll be too busy watching _you_ do it until I’m like, fifty. Or something.”

“I can only hope.” She hums contentedly, closing her eyes and letting the warmth of them both lull her back to sleep.

 

**4.**

Things change for Liam after he gets expelled from Devenford. Big time.

He changes schools, which means he gets to see Mason every day, since he transfers to Beacon Hills High where his best friend attends. He changes lacrosse teams, and it seems to him that this one needs him _even more_ than the last one. He makes new friends, both on the lacrosse team and off it.

Some of whom are a little more… unique than others. Some of whom try to kill him.

Which, of course, is due to the biggest change of all. The werewolf thing.

And it’s not even like, the _werewolf_ thing, y’know? It’s all the other stuff. All the crap that comes with it, as if he didn’t already have enough on his plate to begin with.

Instead, he finds himself adding potential death and dismemberment and a literal ticking time bomb inside of himself that’s set to go off every full moon. Not like he hadn’t been one before, but still. It’s worse now.

Liam hates it.

He hates losing control. He hates looking over his shoulder waiting for the next big that’s going to come for their pack. He hates the fear of never knowing if today’s going to be another normal day at school, where he pretends everything is fine, or if he’s going to be set on fire, or drowned, or fall in a hole.

But most of all? He hates the nightmares.

He starts having them after the Berserkers.

And it’s not even just while he’s asleep. Oh, no. That’d be too fucking easy, wouldn’t it? He sees them in the school hallways. On the lacrosse field. At the school gym. _In his fucking home_.

Which is exactly how he ends up at Mason’s the night of the disastrous lacrosse game against Devenford. Scott and Kira never made it, and Liam had made a fool of himself on the field against his former team. He’d hallucinated a Berserker in the middle of the game, and it had cost him poorly.

So he’s unwinding with his best friend, kicking his ass at Street Fighter for the umpteenth time. He feels a little bad that he’s using his heightened reflexes to do it, but given that Mason can wipe the track with him in Mario Kart and not even break a sweat, he figures this is only fair. The later it gets, the more he fidgets, because he’s going to have to go home, eventually.

It’s better than trying to come up with a way to avoid telling Mason what’s going on with him. Again. He knows the other boy is patient, and said he would wait for him to be ready, but he really hates lying to him. He hates keeping secrets from him. He hates that this is the _only_ secret he’s ever kept from Mason his whole _life_. It sucks. A lot.

He falters in game, takes one punch too many, and the words YOU LOSE flash across his side of the screen a moment later. Liam yawns.

“Yeah,” Mason agrees, nodding. “Me too.”

He stands, turns the Xbox off with his toe, and raises a brow down at Liam. “You staying tonight?” He sounds hesitant, careful.

Liam knows he shouldn’t. He knows the probability of him waking up screaming is very high and very real, with the Berserkers looming in the forefront of his mind at all times. And if not that, then maybe just a regular nightmare about Garrett almost killing him. Or any one of the multiple enemies they’ve faced in the short time he’s been a werewolf. Either way, he’s had to carefully throw out three pairs of sheets at his own home, and sneak new ones into the house when neither of his parents are home. His wallet is suffering.

He doesn’t really have that luxury here, and he can’t exactly explain shredded sheets to his best friend. At least, not in a way that won’t be incredibly embarrassing.

Liam opens his mouth to respond, but his _no thanks_ is drowned entirely by a loud, jaw-cracking yawn.

He blinks up at Mason, blearily. The stress from the last few weeks, and his entirely non-existent sleep schedule weighs heavily on his entire body. Liam honestly doesn’t think he has the energy to walk home. “Uh,” he says, then gives the other boy a half shrug. “Sure.”

Surprise flickers briefly across Mason’s face, and then it’s gone, replaced with a pleased smile. “Okay, cool! I’ll set up the guest bedroom.”

He’s gone in a flash, leaving Liam to rummage through his drawers for something comfortable to sleep in. He laughs when he finds a pair of his own, tucked neatly into the back of one of the drawers. Clearly, he has to give Past Liam props for thinking ahead, be it on purpose or not.

Twenty minutes later he’s brushed his teeth, bid Mason goodnight, and is tucked into the reasonably comfortable bed across the hall. He has one hell of a time falling asleep, though.

Between Camille’s work running the city, and Luther’s work defending it in court, their front door is ever revolving with high end clients and socialites and elected officials. Which means the guest room gets used a fair bit. A fact that is incredibly offensive to his werewolf nose.

From the strong scent of soap on the sheets, to the varied mixed of other people around the room, he can’t get comfortable. He tosses and turns and shifts, burying his nose in the crook of his elbow to try and mask it all. He’s distracted enough his brain doesn’t even try to play tricks on him and pull a Berserker from the shadows, or something.

So it’s really frustrating when sleep finally comes to claim him that he finds himself running from one in his dreams. His heart feels ready to burst from his chest, if the damn thing doesn’t get torn from it first.

He doesn’t know how long he runs. He doesn’t know why he bothers. It always catches him. It always _always_ finds him, in the end. He went down fighting the first few times before he realized how pointless it was. He’s not strong enough, alone.

Maybe he never will be.

Liam wakes in a cold sweat, panic filling his mouth with an acrid taste. He sits up, glancing around the bed to make sure everything is intact. His claws are out, but there’s no visible damage. _Thank god._

He sits quietly, trying to calm his breathing, turning his hearing to the rest of the house. Thankfully, three  heartbeats come back slow and steady, asleep. The fourth, however, sounds awake.

And it belongs to Mason.

_Shit._

Had he woken him up? Had he yelled or shouted in his sleep? Liam mulls it over for several long, agonizing minutes, hoping his best friend will just go back to sleep. He hears him shift and try to get comfortable, but no dice.

So finally, Liam drags himself from bed and tiptoes across the hall. He pokes his head into Mason’s room, and spots him lying there, flicking through his phone. It casts a soft glow over the room. Liam clears his throat. “Mase?”

The other boy looks up, blinking at Liam as his eyes adjust to the darkness away from his phone. He doesn’t really look surprised to see him standing there, but that knowledge does nothing to ease the tightness in the werewolf’s chest.

“You know you don’t have to ask, dude,” Mason says softly, and a weight lifts from Liam’s shoulders. He watches him shift to the left side of the bed, leaving space on the right side. The side Liam has taken every time they’ve had a sleepover over the years.

The beta crosses the expanse of his room in seconds, and barely keeps himself from physically diving at the warm, comfy bed. He buries his face in Mason’s pillow, his own stench of stress and fear washing away from him when surrounded by something familiar, something comforting.

Liam realizes Mason has put his phone away and is watching him, and he flushes. “Sorry,” he mumbles. He clears his throat again. “If I woke you.”

“You didn’t,” he assures him, but Liam can hear the skip in his heartbeat. Mason’s quiet a moment, staring hard enough that Liam wiggles uncomfortably. “Is that why you haven’t slept over in weeks?”

Liam nods, chewing on his bottom lip.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” His voice is quiet, hopeful. There’s worry etched across his face. Liam’s chest _hurts_.

“I’m not—” His voice catches, and his fingers grip tightly at the pillow case. “I don’t know…”

There’s a flash of disappointment in his best friend’s face, but understanding, too. “Okay,” Mason breathes, and then he turns the other way. Liam thinks he’s going to ignore him, and he sort of wants to cry if that’s the case, but then there’s a click and a soft, warm light floods the room.

When the human turns back around, there’s a kind smile on his lips. Liam snorts. “A nightlight? Aren’t you a little old for that?”

“I bought it for you, asshole,” Mason says, shoving him lightly. Liam blinks.

“What?”

Mason sighs, but it sounds patient. “I know something is going on with you, and it’s clear that whatever it is… it’s causing nightmares. Bad ones.” The human shrugs. “I know this helped, when we were kids. After the cat fiasco.”

Liam’s whole face feels hot. “Mase, I…”

“And it’s okay,” Mason continues, eyes searching Liam’s face. “If you’re not ready to tell me. I’ve told you I’m willing to wait, okay? Whatever it is. I’ll be here when you’re ready, and I’ll help in any way I can until then.”

He wiggles enough to bring his hand up, and rests it on the mattress in between them, palm up. He offers Liam a winning smile. “You’re my best friend. I love you, dude.”

Liam’s fist unclenches from around the pillow and his hand slides down to Mason’s. Their fingers tangle together, the other boy’s palm is warm in a way that’s familiar and comforting to him. “I love you too,” Liam sniffles, lips twitching up into a grin. “Always.”

 

**5.**

He tells Mason a few months later.

He has to, of course. Theo doesn’t really give him another choice. (An incident he looks back on later, once they’re friends, and he gives the chimera one good punch for terrifying them the way he did.)

It takes him far longer to tell his parents. And it’s not that he doesn’t want to, because _God_ does he ever. They’ve always been patient and understanding about his IED, so he knows, deep down, that they’ll take this in stride, too. At least, he hopes. It’s just that, well, he doesn’t really know how he’s supposed to explain it to them.

As luck would have it, the universe gives him an answer for that, too. In the form of people with guns in their hands and hatred in their hearts. In the form of raw, unadulterated fear given shape as the Anuk-Ite. In Gerard and Monroe and the target on his back, on every member of his pack.

Liam tells his parents everything, the night they pretend to skip town. Theo’s upstairs, packing anything he thinks is essential into a gym bag on Liam’s behalf, because the chimera seems to think he’s incapable of doing it without bringing _pointless sentimental shit_ with them. Liam stumbles his way through his explanation, giving rushed cliff notes of what’s going on.

His mother smiles softly at him, ruffles his hair, and tells him she’s proud of him. That she loves him. She doesn’t look remotely surprised. His stepfather just shakes his head, and says he’s going to have an interesting conversation with Melissa at work the next day.

Liam makes them promise to stay under the radar, to be careful and to look out for each other.

He piles into the truck after Theo, and watches his parents, huddled together on the front porch, all the way down the block. His heart thunders in his chest, and he feels like throwing up. It’s single-handedly one of the worst nights of his life, and thankfully, Theo keeps his mouth shut about it.

His fear manifests as a recurring dream after that. Every moment he spends away from home, in hiding, it worsens. Liam’s terrified that hunters are going to come knocking at their door, looking for him. That they’ll be threatened, or worse.

He barely sleeps the whole two weeks they spend hiding out, sneaking around town and trying to fight back. It gnaws at him every time he closes his eyes. Sometimes he sees Brett and Lori. Sometimes it’s his parents, or his friends. Every time, it’s Monroe standing over them with a gun, and a crooked smile.

The lack of sleep leaves him grouchy and irritable, and he snaps at the smallest of things. He’s pretty sure that if Theo weren’t around, shadowing him and keeping him in line by focusing his anger on _him_ instead of the hunters, he’d have done something very stupid by now. Reckless.

 _Permanent_.

But they get through it, in the end. Somehow, they make it out alive. And then they get to go home to their families and sleep in their own beds.

At least, the others do. Maybe.

Liam doesn’t last more than half an hour in his before he wakes in a cold sweat, throat raw and mouth dry. His palms are sweaty, his heart is jackhammering in his chest, and he can tell from the quiet voices down the hall that he woke up his parents. His mother sounds worried, and his stepfather confused.

He’s out of bed in an instant.

“I’m okay,” Liam calls, almost slipping on the floorboards in his hurry to make it to their room. The lamp on his mother’s bedside table is on, and her eyes are filled with concern as she fixes him with a stare. His stepfather is still in the middle of rubbing sleep from his eyes. “It’s—I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” Jenna offers him a smile that’s both sympathetic and understanding. “None of us have been sleeping easy the last few weeks.”

And he sees it. He sees it in the bags under her eyes and the weariness in her shoulders. There’s a heaviness to her voice, and he catches a whiff of fear from her. Not for herself, but for _him_. He knows it was hard on him, their time apart, but he never really considered what it was like for his parents. Not knowing where he was or what was going on, if he was safe.

His eyes well up with tears.

“Come here,” she holds out her arms. His feet carry him across the room and then he’s climbing into bed, arms wrapping around his mom tightly. Her fingers card through his hair and he feels her shake as she starts to cry, too. “I’m so sorry, Liam. I’m sorry we couldn’t protect you from all this.”

Liam wants to tell her _it’s okay_ or _it’s not your fault_ but his mouth opens and closes without sound. Every word is a choked sob that dies halfway up his throat. He feels David sit up and scoot closer, and then he’s wrapped his arms around them both. It’s warm and soft and Liam never wants to let go.

“We’re so proud of you, son,” David whispers.

“Yes,” Jenna agrees, and she presses a kiss to the top of his head. Liam whines into her neck. “Thank you for protecting _us_ , honey. For being our hero.”

 

**+1**

It takes some time, but Beacon Hills goes back to normal after the war. As normal as it can be, anyway.

Scott, Lydia and Stiles take off for college. Derek returns to South America, this time with Malia in tow. There’s talk of her finally meeting this other cousin she’s heard so much about. They gripe and complain about it, but Peter packs up with them. They leave him with the keys to the loft and all their numbers, saying that if he needs anything, he simply has to pick up the phone.

It hurts, saying goodbye. Standing there, watching them all pack up their vehicles and head off in different directions, Liam’s nervous. He’s not sure he’s strong enough to be the alpha, yet.

Scott says he’s never been more sure. Especially with Mason, Corey and surprisingly Theo at his side.

Liam’s not sure why the older chimera sticks around. But he does, and Liam’s incredibly grateful, because he’s always there when they need him for something. He checks in every few days for the first three weeks after the senior pack leaves, giving Liam an update on hunter activity in Beacon County, and feeding him any rumours he and Deaton have heard.

After that, well. He doesn’t need to check in, exactly.

Because the moment Liam finds out Theo’s been living in his truck, patrolling Beacon Hills and occasionally sleeping at the animal clinic, trading a few shifts a week for a warm place to stay… He sees red. There’s shouting and fists flying and eventually, because it happens in the middle of a pack meeting in her living room, his mother has to separate them.

Theo’s got the most infuriating, shit-eating grin on as Jenna scolds her son for hitting the chimera and picking a fight There’s blood dribbling down his chin, and Liam’s completely offended that he still somehow manages to look attractive when he wipes it with the back of his hand.

And then it’s _his_ turn to smirk as she turns on Theo. She reprimands him for not telling any of them about his living situation, for putting himself in danger out there when there’s a perfectly good guest bedroom upstairs. Liam’s not entirely sure how it happens, but he goes from wishing Theo were around more so that he’d have _noticed_ something was wrong to… well, living with him.

And surprisingly, it’s great. Easy, comfortable. They click. Liam knew they complimented each other well, that they’d worked well together over the past few months against Ghost Riders and hunters alike, and he’s pleased to see it translates well into being housemates.

Except, of course, for the part where it makes it way harder to handle the crush he’s developed on the chimera that’s the fucking size of Mount Rushmore.

It’s awful.

Liam spends so much time focusing on himself and keeping his emotions hidden, that yet again, he misses something about the chimera. He doesn’t notice that something is wrong, that even though he’s got a roof over his head and a warm bed to sleep in and homemade meals every night—something is off about Theo.

They get into another fight when he calls him on it. He asks about the bags under his eyes and his constant need for coffee despite the little wrinkle he gets in the middle of his forehead every time he takes a sip. It’s innocent, really. But when Theo tenses, and the muscles in his back coil like hackles raising on a dog, Liam gets suspicious.

He pushes, hard. And Theo pushes back.

The fucker ends up ripping one of Liam’s shirts. _Again_.

Which is how the werewolf finds himself lying awake a two in the morning, staring at his ceiling, fuming. He doesn’t understand what the big fucking deal is. He gets that barely anyone has ever shown Theo kindness in his life, but is it really so difficult to imagine Liam’s worried about him? He just wants to help.

And so if Theo’s not going to tell him what’s wrong, Liam’s just going to have to figure it out himself. By staying up long past the point where Theo falls asleep in his bed across the hall, and listening. His heart rate is elevated, and he’s breathing pretty heavily. He sort of sounds like he’s run a marathon, maybe. Liam snickers at the idea that Theo’s running in his sleep, like a dog.

The amusement bleeds from him a moment later when he hears Theo call out in his sleep. His voice is small and pained. Fearful, but apologetic. Even from across the hall Liam can smell the guilt, bitter and stale. “It’s okay. You—You don’t have to stop.”

The werewolf stiffens.

He’s heard Theo say those words before, once. He was standing in the middle of Scott’s kitchen watching Malia beat the shit out of him. Liam frowns and wonders why in the word he’d be dreaming about that. And repeatedly, from the sounds of it. He says it every few minutes as his heart rate climbs and climbs so high Liam thinks it’s going to burst, and then quiets, breathing out deeply. There’s a pause, and his pulse spikes again as it starts all over.

Theo’s on his fourth pass through the nightmare when he says it. “I’m sorry. I’m so _sorry_ , Tara.”

Liam’s blood runs cold.

“It’s okay,” Theo whispers. “You don’t—You don’t have to stop. Take it back.”

 _Take it back?_ Liam mouths, frowning. What the hell is he talking about?

The werewolf sits up in his bed, blankets pooling around his waist. He stares across the hall, and his eyes flare gold as he peers into the darkness. Theo’s door is ajar, while his is wide open, and he can just barely make out the other boy’s shape tossing and turning under the covers.

“It’s yours.” What the fuck? He sounds like he’s sobbing now. “Please, it’s your heart, Tara. I don’t deserve it.”

A soft gasp escapes Liam’s lips. He listens to Theo’s pulse skyrocket higher than he’s heard it yet, and something twists viciously in his own chest. Something cold and painful and aching. He can’t listen to this anymore.

He doesn’t want to shout or knock something over in an attempt to startle the chimera awake, because it might do the same for his parents. So instead, Liam throws the covers off himself and hops out of bed. He pads across the hall as quickly as possible, light and silent on his feet.

The door creaks as he pushes it open, and he winces, freezing. Theo continues on whimpering, lost to the monsters in his own head, so Liam keeps moving. He lets his feet carry him all the way to the bed, and then asks himself what he’s doing for only a split second before he makes a decision and lifts the blanket back. He really really hopes this doesn’t get him punched.

“Theo,” Liam whispers, crawling into the space next to him. He reaches out, one arm curling around the chimera’s torso and holding him still. “Theo, it’s me. Wake up.”

Theo mumbles something, trying to twist out of Liam’s hold.

“ _Theo_ ,” the beta says more forcefully, and there’s a hint of a growl around the name.

That seems to do the trick.

The chimera’s eyes fly open, wide with terror, and he inhales sharply. Liam’s grip on him breaks, and the beta dodges an arm the flails dangerous close to his face as Theo adjusts. He scoots back, giving him space, splaying his hands out in the air at his sides. “You’re okay,” Liam says gently. “It’s just me, dude. You’re safe.”

Theo starts at the sound of his voice, head whipping to face him. His brows furrow deeply, the frown twisting his whole face with sharp angles. “Wha— _Liam?”_ His eyes flicker around the room, frantic. His pulse has lowered only slightly, it’s still racing away in his chest. “What are you doing here?”

“You were having a nightmare,” Liam explains. “It—It sounded pretty bad so I… I woke you.”

Theo’s face goes red, slowly, and he ducks his shoulders. Liam catches a whiff of embarrassment rolling in to replace the fear and panic. It takes every ounce of self-control not to reach out and try to soothe him, the way his mother has done for him time and time again, but he doesn’t want to spook him or scare him off. So he folds his hands together, and frowns.

“It’s okay,” he whispers. “I get them, too.”

Theo doesn’t look at him. “Not like this.”

The silence stretches out between them, and Liam chews on his bottom lip. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

The beta huffs.

“Fine. Then I will.” He scoots closer, and Theo watches him out of the corner of his eye while staring resolutely at the ceiling. “You’ve done a lot of terrible things, Theo. Last year, when we met, you weren’t the greatest person. You weren’t the most _deserving_ of anything.”

Theo’s breath hitches, the only sign that he’s caught the meaning behind Liam’s words.

“But something changed when you went to Hell,” Liam continues, breath ghosting over Theo’s shoulder. His gaze bores into the side of Theo’s face. “ _You_ changed. And when I brought you back… It took me awhile to see it. And I know that not everyone has, but… I do. I see someone who’s fought tooth and nail to protect the pack he tried to break. I see someone who’s thrown his life into danger for me time and time again, when he swore he wouldn’t. I see someone who could’ve run at the first change he got—any of the chances, really—but chose to stick around, and live in his truck, and keep Beacon Hills safe. I see a hero.”

Now, Theo looks at him.

Painfully slowly, his head turns. His brow is furrowed in confusion, and there’s fear and suspicion glittering in the green of his eyes. The chimera doesn’t look convinced, and it’s the same look he’s worn every time Liam’s tried to reach out and offer help or concern.

“Don’t do that,” Theo whispers. “Don’t make me into something I’m not.”

Liam’s voice wavers only a little. “You are to me.”

There’s a huff of breath as Theo’s eyes widen, flickering briefly to Liam’s chest. As though he listens for the lie and is surprised when he doesn't hear one.

Carefully, the beta lifts one hand and reaches out, placing it on Theo’s chest, over his heart. “You might not have deserved it then, when you got it, but you do now, okay? And you shouldn’t keep punishing yourself for it. You deserve to be happy.”

“I don’t,” Theo says, and it sounds so sad, so _miserable_ , Liam’s heart nearly breaks. “I’m living her life, Liam. A life I took from her.”

“Then you should make the most of it.” Theo’s stolen heart is hammering in his chest to a rapid beat, and Liam’s breath catches when he realizes his own heartbeat has synced up to it. “What’ll it take to convince you of that? To convince you that people _can_ care about you, and you _do_ deserve kindness.”

Theo swallows, and Liam’s eyes track the movement of his throat, all the way back up to his lips as the chimera runs his tongue across them. By the time blue reaches green again, he realizes that Theo’s staring at _his_ lips. His heart stutters, then skips an entire beat.

He knows Theo hears it, because his gaze snaps up to meet Liam’s, and he sucks in a shaky breath. His lips part, the lower one quivering, and then he clamps his mouth shut tightly. One cheek dimples, and then he tries again, voice steady.

“The one thing I can’t have.”

Liam’s pretty sure he stops breathing.

“Me?” He manages to croak. Theo’s face darkens, and he goes to turn away, so Liam reaches up, moving his hand from the chimera’s chest to his cheek. He holds his gaze steady, even though his hands are shaking. “You… you want _me_?”

Theo doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. His heart skips a beat in answer for him, and that’s enough for Liam. He's spent weeks thinking about a million different ways this could've gone, of when and where and how they'd have their first kiss, and while this isn't it, he certainly isn't about to waste the opportunity. Not like he did in the elevator. He leans forward, crashing his lips to Theo’s. The chimera shudders against him, kissing him back fiercely for a moment.

Only a brief, fleeting moment.

Then he’s pulling away, somber look in his eyes and shadows clouding his face.

“What?” Liam chokes, inhaling sharply. “Was it not okay?”

The laugh Theo lets out is hollow. “No, Liam. It’s not that. You shouldn’t—I don’t get to—”

He catches himself, frowning. It _hurts_ to look at him.

“You do,” Liam insists. “Because it—it’s what I want. If you’ll have me.”

Theo’s eyes widen, and the beta’s too close to see them, but he can smell the salt of tears. “You deserve happiness, Theo, and I’d like to give you that, it you’ll let me.”

“Why?” The word is a half-aborted sob.

“Because you make me feel safe. Because you make me happy. Because you saved me. Because you’re my anchor,” Liam says, pressing his lips softly to Theo’s skin between every sentence. His nose. His forehead. His cheeks. They’re both shaking now, but Theo’s hands reach up and cover Liam’s.

“I’m sorry,” Theo says.

“I’m not,” Liam smiles. “And if I have to crawl in here every night and help you fight your demons, Theo, until you’re convinced of that, then I will. Because I love you.”

This time, it’s Theo that leans in, unable to answer him with words. He clings tightly to the beta, and pours every ounce of his heart into his kiss.

And Liam’s okay with that, really.

Because he’s got a lifetime ahead of him to teach Theo how to use his words, instead.


End file.
